


Feline and Canine

by foxboxtango



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Irene is so annoying, M/M, Supernatural - Shapeshifters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxboxtango/pseuds/foxboxtango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are both shapeshifters. They begin appearing at the crime scenes in their animal forms, and it all descends to hell from there. With Moriarty on the loose, Anderson being an idiot as normal and a slightly mad and definitely inappropriate 'house guest' that drives both of them insane, what could possibly go wrong? (Mild innuendo, but nothing serious.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings. I have returned.
> 
> So this is a story that I've already written and posted on ff.net. I'm reposting it here and editing it to make it a bit better - I think my writing and plot are good in this story, but could be developed a bit. It's significantly longer than Moon Song, I think about 10,000 words longer.  
> Speaking of Moon Song (imagine a fanfare) I'm currently working on a sequel, but it's verry slow going, so I wouldn't expect to see it for a long time. I'll keep you updated regarding that.  
> This will probably be posted three or four times a week, probably Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays, and maybe Mondays too depending on how I'm going with keeping up to date with everything.
> 
> Hope everyone has a good week  
> Cheers,  
> Foxboxtango :)

  
Chapter One  
Testing the Waters

One day, Sherlock arrived at a crime scene, not with John in tow, but a large German Shepherd instead.  Sally gazed open-mouthed at him and the dog, not even bothering with her usual taunts.  Sherlock waited to be let through, but when it became obvious she wasn’t going to move any time soon, rolled his eyes and lifted the tape up himself, stepping under elegantly.  The dog glanced at Sally and followed him, huffing to itself.  She turned and stared at them as they entered the crime scene, still unable to do anything else.  They disappeared through the door and she blinked to herself.   _What-_

“ _Sherlock!!!_ ” 

Sally grinned. Even when completely baffled, she could still appreciate the sounds of Sherlock getting told off.

-/-\\-

"Why the hell do you have a dog?"  
"I'm looking after him."

 Lestrade stared.

“ _You’re_ looking after a dog?”

Sherlock scowled.

“Yes, Lestrade.  I’m looking after a dog.  I don’t know why you’re so surprised at me taking care of something, seeing as I look after your horribly incompetent team nearly every day.”

The dog huffed and wagged its tail once to hit Sherlock in the leg.

Lestrade stared.

Sherlock sighed impatiently.

“Crime scene?” he prompted.  
“Yeah, yeah,” Lestrade replied vaguely, still staring.

The dog huffed again, its tongue lolling in what could be considered a grin.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.”

Sherlock disappeared, leaving Lestrade and the German Shepherd to stare at each other.  He crouched down so they were at eye level.

“You’re injured,” he said, noticing how the dog held its left foreleg up protectively.  The dog tilted its head and if to say, _Yes, well done Lestrade, brilliant deduction_.

“Lestrade!  If you’ve quite finished staring, come in here!”

The dog huffed and grinned again, trotting off to find Sherlock and managing quite well despite its injured leg.  By the time Lestrade joined Sherlock, he had almost overcome his surprise and managed to realise that, really, a dog should _not_ be at a crime scene. 

“Sherlock,” he started, but was waved off.  
"He's fine.  He won't mess around with the evidence."  He went silent, as if waiting for something.

Nothing happened.

Sherlock sighed and let out an exasperated, “Please?”

The dog huffed again (Lestrade realised it was an amused noise, and then mentally slapped himself over the head - dogs didn't make amused noises...did they?) and made its over to the body, sniffing it carefully.  The young girl on the floor had been reported missing about a week ago, and then several days later Lestrade had received a panicked call from some teenagers saying they'd found a dead body.

“Sherlock!”  
“It’s fine, be quiet.”

The dog continued sniffing.  It circled the body and stared at it appraisingly.  Lestrade had to wonder what the hell was going on.

“No, you’re not dreaming.  And really, please do be quiet, you’re very distracting.”

He couldn’t even find anything to say to that.

After a few minutes, the dog had apparently completed its assessment of the body and sat down, waiting for some kind of signal.

“Come on,” Sherlock encouraged.

The dog tilted its head.

“Yes, I’m ready!  We’ve practised this over and over again.  If I haven’t got it by now, I won’t get it at all.  And I _have_ got it by now.”   _So there_ , seemed to echo unsaid throughout the room.  The dog huffed again.

_Okay so maybe some dogs can make amused noises_.

And if Lestrade had thoughts things were strange before, they were nothing when compared to what was happening before his eyes.

The German Shepherd rolled onto its back and placed its right foreleg across its neck.

“Asphyxiation.  Obvious!”

The dog threw him a dirty look and got to its feet again.  Its head dropped and its shoulders rolled, as if it were retching.

“Choked on her own vomit.  Keep going.”

The dog snarled.

“Victim fought back.  Oh!  Got it!”  
“What the hell was _that?_ ”  
"That, Lestrade, was a dog doing the mutliple hours of work your forensics team's would have taken in just a few minutes."

He spluttered.

"Anyway I've got a profile for your murderer."  
"How! - oh, never mind."  
"Are you goind to take it down?"  
"I'll remember!"  
"I won't repeat it."  
" _Sherlock!_ "  
"The murderer is a man, quite tall; I'd say six foot two, six foot three.  He attacked the victim from behind, dragged her into this room with his arm around her neck.  Once he got her in here, she managed to escape his hold and fight back, but her overpowered her, so he's stronger and most likely taller, given that if he was six feet and three inches she would have had to have a very tall woman.  He'll have broad shoulders; he's got large hands and large feet.  He's a software designer, works locally, and catches the tube to work.  I do hope that's enough for you to go on."  
"How did you get all that?  And how did your dog do...whatever he did?" 

There was the softest, tiniest growl from the dog, more like a quiet warning than an actual threat.  Sherlock smiled.

“I assure you, he is quite his own.  I trust you’ll find the killer eventually.  Do call.”

He whistled and walked out of the room.  The dog rolled its head as though it was trying to roll its eyes but hadn’t quite got the hang of it yet, and loped out of the room to follow Sherlock.  It stopped by Lestrade, patted him twice on the knee with its tail, huffed once, and continued on its way.

_What the hell just happened?_


	2. Making Sure It's Still Hot

Chapter Two  
Making Sure it’s Still Hot

  
A week after the incident with the dog, John arrived at the crime scene in the park with a black cat draped over his shoulders.  John was talking to it as if it could possibly understand what he was saying. The cat, on the other hand, looked bored and more interested in the crime scene they were approaching. As they advanced towards the police tape, it was easier to hear the conversation.

 “And if you dig your claws into my jumper and ruin it, you’re buying me a new one!”

Sally stared at the pair in confusion.  Did John just tell a cat it would have to buy him a new jumper?More importantly, where was the Freak? It was weird enough when he’d brought the dog along last time Lestrade had called him in. Where the hell were all the animals coming from anyway? The frown on John’s face changed into a pleasant smile and walked towards Donovan.

“Hello Sergeant.  Is Lestrade in there?” John asked.

The cat ignored her, turning its face determinedly towards the crime scene.

“Yeah,” she said, giving the cat a curious look.  “Nice cat.”

“Thanks.  He’s not mine but I have to take care of him for a few days.  He’s a right pain, but a friend needed a favour.”

The cat whacked its tail against the back of John’s head, settling itself more firmly on its precarious perch.

“Right, well.  Lestrade’s through there.”

  
“Thanks.”

Giving another pleasant - though strained – smile, he ducked under the tape.  Sally stared at his back as John made his way carefully through the grass.  As she watched, the cat turned to face her.  It tilted its head mischievously, flicked its tail once and _winked_?

***

Lestrade was standing near a cluster of trees when he spotted John. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

John gave a weak smile at the exclamation, steadying the cat on his shoulders. .

“Sorry, Greg.”

“Where’s Sherlock?”

“He had to do something for Mycroft.”

“He willingly did something for _Mycroft_?”

John made a face and shoved his hands in his pocket. He shuffled closer to get a better look at the body, being careful not to knock the animal on his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t say willingly.  Sherlock hardly does anything willingly, even for me.  There was a fair bit of bullying going on from both sides.  Mycroft threatened him with a knighthood again.”

Lestrade couldn’t help but shake his head. “The idea of Sherlock as a knight is not even worth considering.”

“He’d probably make Anderson call him Sir Sherlock all the time.  He sent me to look through everything since he was busy. I have to take a few pictures, write a few notes and try not to botch it up too much.”

Lestrade smiled in sympathy and went to give John a pat on the shoulder. He quickly moved his hand to John’s arm at the glare he got from the cat. He’d always heard cats were possessive.   John only let out a resigned sigh as the cat smacked the back of his head with its tail once more.

“Well, go ahead and do what you need to do.  I’d be glad to get out of the way of those two if I were you.”  Lestrade said as he waved them towards the body.

John waited until Lestrade turned his back to talk on the radio before setting the cat down. “You have no idea.  Sherlock I can deal with, but Mycroft is just _creepy_.”

The cat ruffled its fur into its proper place before disappearing into the bushes near the body.  John stood and faced Lestrade by the time his conversation had ended.

“I know – I’ve experienced it firsthand.  After Sherlock came in for the first time, Mycroft ambushed me on my way home and gave me this huge speech about being a concerned party.  I think he told me that if I ever hurt Sherlock I’d find myself in the back of a car with my hands tied to my feet and on the way to a very painful place.  I’m pretty sure he said some other stuff, but I blocked it out to avoid trauma.” Lestrade said.

“He did the same thing to me.  After the serial suicides case, Mycroft threatened me into a black car and effectively kidnapped me.  He took me to an abandoned warehouse and told me he’d be happy to pay me a significant amount of money to give him information on Sherlock.”

“ _What_?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever completely trust him.  I don’t think even Sherlock completely trusts him, though that being said, it’s not hard to see that there’s some sort of bad history between them.”

Once John had finished his story, the cat slunk back over from the bushes it had been hiding under. It bypassed Lestrade like he wasn’t there and stopped in front of John.  He received a pointed look and let out another sigh, then bent to pick up the cat and let the creature settle around his shoulders once more. The surprised look on Lestrade’s face as he did so went unnoticed. The DI hadn’t even realised that the cat had been missing until then.

“I really don’t envy you, having to deal with both Holmes brothers.  One’s enough – too much, really – for me.” Lestrade muttered with a shudder. John shrugged and gave a small smile. It wasn’t like he could do much. Both brothers were a hassle but it was commonplace for him now. Mycroft would never leave Sherlock alone and Sherlock would never stop being a git.

“I wish he’d leave us alone but he’s got a huge power complex. I don’t think it’s likely to happen anytime soon.  Well, I’d better get back to Sherlock.  He’s going to start doing something drastic to the flat if I don’t get this to him.” John said as he prepared himself to leave.

“Good luck.”

“Same to you.”

-/-\\-

Only later, when Lestrade was unlocking the door to his house and turning on the lights did he realise that John didn’t take notes or photos for Sherlock.  He had enjoyed being able to know that he wasn’t the only one that Mycroft kidnapped, but that still didn’t leave out the fact that John had only glanced briefly at the body and talked.  The cat he had brought along with him moved more than he did, though that hardly explained how John did what Sherlock asked him to. He never left Lestrade’s side the entire time at the crime scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my updates are on schedule.  
> Not.  
> Sorry! Real life got in the way. Thanks to my wonderful new beta Noxtorious, this chapter is much better than it was before. And probably arriving earlier than it would have had I been doing this on my own. (I'm that behind.)  
> Thanks to everyone who read, gave kudos, commented or bookmarked :)  
> Hopefully the next chapter will arrive sooner, providing I can get on top of my life.  
> Cheers,  
> Foxboxtango :)


End file.
